


by any other name

by bog gremlin (tomatocages)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bachelor Shiro (Voltron), Dating, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Outer Space, The Bachelor AU, documentary filmmaker Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29657226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatocages/pseuds/bog%20gremlin
Summary: When Keith becomes a cameraman for The Bachelor, he’s startled to find that said bachelor — Takashi Shirogane — is completely uninterested in the thirty-odd suitors vying for his hand, but extremely interested in Keith.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 222





	by any other name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benicemurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [AU: Keith is a cameraman on The Bachelor, and Shiro falls for him](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/765474) by jaja_han. 



> for [BeNiceMurphy](https://twitter.com/benicemurph), who won my 300+ follower giveaway! 
> 
> And many thanks to jaja_han who agreed to let me use [their art](https://twitter.com/jaja_han/status/1088108654702804992) as a jumping off point. :) The au of Keith as a cameraman on the Bachelor was delightful. Please note I have never seen the Bachelor, but did not let that stop me.

* * *

Despite making his living running cameras for the networks, Keith doesn’t watch much TV himself. Nothing against it; he just doesn’t have a lot of time after he gets off work, and settling in on the couch after a full twelve hours on his feet, while compelling, wouldn’t be fair to the dog. So he doesn’t exactly understand the cultural appeal of the Bachelor when he’s promoted to the show.

But after the first day of shooting… Keith absolutely, wholeheartedly understands the appeal of this season’s Bachelor. 

“We’ve got a live one this season,” Matt tells them when he hands out the call sheets and assignments to Keith and his fellow crew members. Lance, who’s heading hair and makeup, lets out a wolf whistle.

“You’re not kidding,” he says. “This guy’s gonna put me out of a job.”

Keith examines the headshot. Takashi Shirogane, 36, is objectively handsome, but Keith’s pretty sure that’s the point of the show. He’s smiling, like most people do in headshots, and he’s got genuine laugh-lines at the corners of his eyes. He looks — nice, Keith thinks. Like someone you could talk to at the end of a long day, someone who would listen and hold up their end of the conversation. 

“Does he need cue cards?” Allura asks, already scribbling conversation-starters on her ever-present pad of pink sticky notes. They’re the only color that the rest of the crew take notice of; there’s an internal color-coding system, will all of Matt’s production notes in green (generally worthless, is the general consensus), Lotor’s blocking notes in purple (Keith knows how to find someone;’s good angle, he doesn’t have time to try and decipher Lotor’s handwriting), and little checkboxes for sandwich orders from craft services in yellow. 

“No, he’s functional,” Matt replies. “He and I went to prep school together, Shiro’s one of those people who could have a conversation with a dead fish and make it seem interesting. Getting him on this season was like pulling teeth, though.”

“Snotty?” Lance asks. He has an instinct for drama; if Shiro is the type to cause a ruckus behind the scenes, Lance and his fleet of assistants will bend over backwards to keep it off camera. 

“Worse,” Matt says. “He’s noble. Guy just finished a service trip to the Kuiper Belt, helping relocate orphans after a shuttle failure. He’s waiting to be redeployed on an exploration mission to the ice gardens of Kerberos, he agreed to come on the show so we could drum up funding.”

“Oh,” Lance says, disappointed. “So there’s just a conflict of interest.” He folds a sheet from his own post-it pad into a complex and profoundly un-aerodynamic airplane, which he throws in Keith’s direction; it lands in Allura’s iced coffee. She doesn’t appear to notice.

“Wait, no, he disclosed that,” Allura says, scanning over the brief pasted on the back of the headshot. Keoith flips his own copy over and runs a fingertip under the proposed trip outline.

“He wants it to be a honeymoon trip,” Keith reads. It’s a nice thought: exploring the stars with the person you love best. He’s not sure if a dating show is the way to find that person, but someone like Takashi — Shiro, Keith supposes — shouldn’t have any problems finding someone to love him. 

Lance nudges him with a pointy elbow. “Too bad that’s not a job the network would send you on,” he says. “Isn’t that what you went to school for?”

“Documentary filmmaking, yeah,” Keith says. Most of his experience is in filming underwater caves, many of them carved out of glaciers; people are new to him. He supposes the contestants on the show can’t be any harder to get good footage of than an eel.

* * *

The contestents, it turns out, area lot harder to shoot than the eels ever were: for starters, they won’t back the fuck up. It takes Keith forever to get them to wait their turn for their interviews. Finally one of them — an older guy named Adam — herds the rest of the contestants into the main room of the house and helps the crew vet them against the call sheet. It’s enough to make Matt send out a memo suggesting someone on the team marry Adam if he doesn’t make it to the next round of filming, just so he’ll still show up on set.

“After this season is over,” Keith mutters to himself, adjusting his rig, “I’m reapplying to National Geographic and never working with an entertainment network again.”

“Oh, you’re into travel films?” Someone asks brightly. If Keith weren’t a professional, he might snap at them to mind their own business; but as it is, he’s new to the show and knows he needs to make contacts on set if he’s going to cultivate a solid pool of references. He pastes a smile on his face, hoping to hide his combined irritation and embarrassment, before turning to the speaker.

“Yeah, I used to do underwater dives,” he starts, but stops short when he realizes that he’s face-to-face with none other than the bachelor himself: Shiro’s even more devastating in person. 

“Spelunking?” Shiro asks, encouraging.

“Uh, no,” Keith says. “Deep water exploration. I did this one project with ice eels — ”

“No way,” Shiro interrupts, taking two steps closer so they’re actually in speaking distance of each other, instead of ‘casual chitchat’ distance (Keith drew up those markers; it’s a difference of about seventeen inches). “Were you on the  ice diving documentary project? I love that film. Felt like I was taking a swim through those eels’ living room.”

“They were kinda shy at first,” Keith laughs at the memory. “But they warmed up to me. We had to cut some footage at the end, there was this little guy that fell in love with the tubing we used for my camera cables. It was kind of cute, but the marine biologists said it could ruin his chances of finding a mate, so we had to wrap everything in this gross tape.” 

“Oh, wow,” Shiro says, and he’s — not just attractive. He’s  _ charismatic, _ in a way that Keith suddenly feels weak to. No one outside of the diving bubble he used to work in has ever cared this much about the eels, and when Shiro offers his hand, Keith stares for a minute, a little dazed, before he manages to juggle his camera out of the way and shake it. 

Shiro’s hand is warm and broad, and his skin has a pleasing dryness to it. Keith hates shaking hands, but he’d be happy just holding on to Shiro, he thinks; and he does, for a beat too long, before he comes to his senses and drops it. 

“Keith,” he fumbles to recover. “I’m, uh, a camera guy.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith,” Shiro says. “I’m Takashi — but please, call me Shiro.”

“Matt told me.”

“Oh, you work with  _ Matt, _ ” Shiro groans. “Do me a favor and ignore everything he says about me, would you?”

“He’s kind of my boss?”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Shiro says. He touches Keith’s elbow, companionable and a little secretive. “Matt is categorically incapable of supervising anyone. If he gives you any trouble, let me know — his sister writes all the employment contracts for the network and she’s a friend of mine. We can give him hell.” 

“Where’s the talent?!” Allura calls across the lawn. “I need him for the promo interviews!” 

“I think she’s talking about you,” Keith says, grasping the out. Shiro is devastating: getting away from the conversation might make Keith a lot like those shy eels he used to film, but it’s a self-preservation thing.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Shiro laughs. He scrubs at the buzzed nape of his neck, radiating wholesome energy. Keith wants to photograph him, or make dinner for him; he looks like he’d need a lot of protein. “I gotta run. But don’t be a stranger, Keith! I want to know more about those eels!”

It’s the beginning of the end. 

* * *

After learning about Keith’s other film projects, Shiro asks questions every time he and Keith are both on set. Keith’s flattered by the attention and tries not to let it show, which results in Lance creating puppets out of unused craft service lunch bags and putting on an extemporaneous show where puppet-Keith spurns the lovesick advances of puppet-Shiro.

“He’s dating thirty other people,” Keith hisses. “Put those  _ away. _ ”

“Pfft,” Lance ignores him, and makes the puppets kiss. “My abuela would say it doesn’t matter how many fish are in the sea, once you have a catch on the line, you can stop fishing.” 

“Your abuela lives in Miami and refuses to eat fish,” Allura says. Keith can’t figure out if she and Lance are friends or enemies or just married as all get-out; the two of them give off an extremely unsettling vibe. “Also, I’m disappointed in your puppetry, Lance; Shiro’s abs are much better than you’ve drawn them.”

“I mean, it’s not an eight-pack,” Shiro says, materializing with a tray of coffees. He’s so  _ thoughtful _ . “But a man’s got to have goals.”

“I’ll make an updated version,” Lance muses while simultaneously shoving the Keith puppet facedown on the table to act as a coaster. 

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro turns towards him and smiles brighter than the midnight sun. “I don’t know if you’re into this kind of thing, but I got you a cake pop. You know, so you could have your hands free.”

“Shiro.” Keith says, and loses his train of thought. “Thank you.” He’s honestly a little choked up by the gesture, so he smiles bashfully and reaches out to accept the pink confection — 

“Wow,” Keith hears Allura say, faintly. “Can someone call HR for me? I want to look over his contract.” 

“You deserve a treat,” Shiro says, and now that he's handed over the cake pop he uses his free hand to chuck Keith gently under the chin; it’s practically a caress. Keith wants to lean into the touch and barely manages to keep to the prescribed seventeen inches of space between them. 

Lance isn't a great photographer, but he manages to capture the incident with his smartphone camera. That, and his lunch bag puppet reenactment for the producers, seal Keith’s fate. 

* * *

No one bothers to tell Keith there’s been a change of plans, so he’s boggled when Shiro turns off his mark during the weekly rose ceremony — there’re only four contestants left, one of whom is, indeed, Adam. Word in the staff lounge is that Adam is seeing someone in PR on the down-low, and is only on the show now because it’s a relief to have a plant in among the contestants who’s not twenty-three. 

“And last… ” Shiro trails off before looking directly into the camera. Keith’s heart stutters a little. It’s not like Shiro to be so unprofessional.

“Keith,” Shiro says. “Will you accept this rose?”

Keitth stares dumbly at him from behind the camera, incapable of speech. He raises one trembling hand and points to his own chest in shock. Shiro can’t be serious, can he? Doesn’t he know that the crew hasn’t been approved for overtime? Redoing this take will be a nightmare.

“Go on, idiot,” Lance hisses, and snags Keith’s earpiece before shoving him out from behind the rig, into the spotlight. 

“Shiro,” Keith croaks. “I don’t understand.”

“For pity’s sake,” Adam says from the sidelines, burying his face in his hands. “It took him long enough.” 

“I just want a chance to spend some time with you,” Shiro says earnestly. He’s still holding out the rose, and Keith has never before understood the drama and romance of the rose ceremony. There’s something powerful occurring, a sense of delight at being  _ chosen _ , even if he wasn’t in the running to begin with. 

“Oh,” is all he manages, but he reaches out and takes the last rose. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith can see Allura corralling the remaining contestants off the mainstage, likely to shoot reaction segments while the shock is still fresh. 

Shiro beams. “I was never going to get a chance to hear more about your documentary work if you didn’t agree,” he says. 

It’s not in the stage descriptions, but Shiro takes Keith’s hand and leads him away. In the midst of his delight and confusion, Keith realizes that Allura hadn’t been idly practicing her cat-eyeliner skills on him during the last break; she was making him up for his on-camera debut. 

The next few days are a blur. Keith thought being on the other side of the camera was a beautiful marriage of intense work and slow tedium, but it doesn’t compare to being given a call sheet and a vague set of directions by the production team. 

“You’ll move into the house for the duration of the season,” Coran says, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Any food allergies, lad? I’ll talk to craft services and make certain the buffet is stocked!”

“I have a dog,” Keith protests. “I need to go home.”

“Is he trained?” Allura asks, right as Matt shouts, 

“A new mascot!”

Shiro loves dogs, it turns out. Keith had been half-hoping he didn’t — Shiro needs a flaw or two, because Keith can feel himself falling in love, and falling in love with a man who’s set to be married in three weeks,  _ and  _ who’s booked an expedition launch to the far end of the solar system, is a recipe for heartbreak. 

“What a good boy,” Shiro enthuses, and doesn’t seem to mind when Kosmo sheds profusely across the shins of a dry-clean-only suit. “Keith, we should take him for a run!”

Which, of course, leads to an early-morning walk along the oceanfront. The sun is teasing its way up across the horizon and everything is butter-colored and soft. There aren’t any cameras around; Keith feels a little naked, now that he’s not in the vicinity of a lens. It doesn’t matter which side of it he’s on, he’s spent the better part of a decade near a camera. How can he be sure this is really happening, if there’s no record being made? 

But Shiro is even gentler when they’re alone. “Sorry to spring this on you,” he apologizes, taking Keith’s hands in his own. His prosthetic  _ thrums _ faintly against Keith’s skin, like Shiro’s pulse has been translated into some kind of tell. “You’re hard to get out from behind that camera.”

“So you asked me out on network television?”

“That wasn’t my first attempt at asking you out,” Shiro says, wryly. He hasn’t let go of Keith’s hands. It feels natural to interlace their fingers and continue their stroll. “I asked you out plenty. You left me hanging every time, but I still hoped.”

“Wasn’t sure I was reading it right,” Keith mutters, “considering the circumstances.”

“Adam said that might be a problem,” Shiro muses. “He’s an ex, you know. Agreed to be a contestant just so I’d have a familiar face in the crowd. I hate doing publicity.”

Keith tucks that information about Adam away for later and focuses on the true surprise. “You’re so charismatic! I’d never guess you hated publicity.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Shiro says. He’s not smiling anymore, but he’s still got those laugh-lines around his eyes, crinkling in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m on a dating show. If the production team hadn’t agreed to promote the Kerberos mission and help drum up funding, I wouldn’t have considered it.”

‘Wow,” Keith says. He feels a bit faint. “Guess I’m lucky you’re so ambitious.”

“Stick with me,” Shiro advises. “I’ll make it worth your while. 

Keith learns that Shiro keeps his promises. The remaining contestants don’t seem to begrudge his last-minute appearance — “Trust me,” says Ulaz, a silver fox himself, “at this point we’re all rooting for you. Dates with Shiro were becoming unbearable, all he does is talk about you.” — and it’s added a substantial boost to the already-significant ratings. The general public loves Shiro, and they seem to love Shiro doting over Keith even more. 

“So the next date is going to take place in a hotel suite,” Lance says at call the next day. “I have chosen your swim briefs, you can thank me by wearing them.” He punctuates this statement with a paper flower crown that Keith refuses to wear.

“A lot of post-it notes were sacrificed for that crown, Keith,” Allura sniffs. “The least you could do is accommodate our well-wishes.”

“Don’t I get some expectation of privacy?” Keith yelps. But no, he doesn’t; and that evening finds him sulking in the suite’s hot tub, waiting for Shiro to arrive. 

“This feels sordid,” Keith announces when Shiro sits himself on the edge of the tub, letting his feet dangle. Even Shiro’s toes are endearing; he ought to come with a warning label. Keith feels his heart clench. 

“Budge up a bit,” Shiro tells him, and scoots around until he’s got his knees on either side of Keith’s shoulders, blocking the camera’s view. Keith feels his posture improve to a level of uprightness his martial arts instructors always begged him to achieve: if he leans back, his head will rest on Shiro’s belly. Lower, if Keith’s not circumspect. “For pity’s sake, Keith, relax.”

“Don’t wanna get your clothes wet,” Keith mumbles. 

Shiro ignores this and leans forward, elbows resting on his own knees and draping down so he can clasp his hands about Keith’s bare chest. “I don’t care,” he says, and tugs until Keith feels himself slip against the texture wall of the hot tub, landing heavily in the crease of Shiro’s thigh. 

“That’s better,” Shiro says, and cheats his body a little more so that the cameras can see even less of Keith. “Don’t think of the cameras. I’m jealous. I want all your attention on me.”

It’s a big ask. But Shiro’s the one asking: Keith finds he doesn’t really mind, not when he can focus his attention on the way Shiro rubs his fingertips over Keith’s chest. 

“Shiro,” Keith confesses. “I really like you.”

Shiro tweaks one of Keith’s nipples affectionately; it’s all Keith can do to wriggle wetly away from his fingers and bury his face into the dense, reassuring muscle of Shiro’s thigh. “After all this is over,” Shiro murmurs, too low for the microphones to pick up, “I want you to run away with me.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Come to Kerberos with me,” Shiro elaborates. “The mission control team would be thrilled to have you behind the camera. I’d be thrilled to have you behind the camera. The way you look at the world, Keith — you’ve got an eye. You see things the way they are.”

Shiro might say more, but Keith surges up out of the hot tub and into his arms, slopping water all over Shiro’s ridiculous linen trousers and his stupid v-neck shirt. Keith needs to kiss Shiro immediately — who wouldn’t, after an invitation like that? — but he needs the reassurance of Shiro’s hands on him more, like an anchor. 

“Of course I’ll come,” he says. “Shiro. I want to go everywhere with you.”

“I know we’ll need to figure out what’s best for the dog,” Shiro talks over Keith’s acceptance at first, like he’s unsure of his own welcome and needs to prove he’s got Keith’s best interests in mind — that he’s not just after Keith’s camera skills, but is invested in Keith as a whole person. “— oh! You want to?” 

The climate control in the room kicks on and Keith shivers as he registers the change in temperature, the cool rush of air passing over his wet skin. Shiro absorbs the shiver, strokes his big hands down Keith’s back and tucks the tips of his prosthetic fingers beneath the waistband of Keith’s swim briefs.  _ Brief _ is the right word: an awful lot of leg is exposed.

“Do you really want to have this conversation now?” Keith gasps. He’s laughing. Shiro has that effect on him: Keith hasn’t felt happiness like this since the first time he dove inside a glacier and realized he was seeing a world no one else had ever thought to look for. “Now, when you’re being filmed? When you’re auditioning a fiancé?”

Shiro concedes the point. He procures a towel and bundles Keith up, the sets about making them ersatz s’mores using a tea light, a packet of artisanal marshmallows, and the chocolates from the turndown service. 

“I’ll be good,” Shiro promises, but he still licks marshmallow fluff off Keith’s fingertips before sending him into the en suite to change into clothes better suited for cuddling. It’s honest enough and intimate enough that Keith can’t bring himself to be embarrassed when the production team sends a memo letting him know that the ratings have gone up again. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” Matt says, “keep doing it. I’ll edit it out of the footage if need be.”

“I’m not doing  _ anything _ ,” Keith hisses. But he is: he’s falling in love. 

* * *

The finale is a finale. Keith has never seen so many roses in his life, but they quickly fade to the background as he takes in the sight of Shiro kneeling before him, making cheesy vows and smiling his sweet, honest smile. It’s a blur, really. Later Allura will tell him that the tears were a nice touch, but Keith doesn’t remember crying. 

What he does remember: Shiro making promises, and Kosmo getting loose from his on-set handler, running into the shot and leaping joyfully through the flowers. He remembers Shiro kissing him, and he remembers the way Shiro still — always — cheated his body so Keith wasn’t in full view of the cameras. It’s overwhelming, and overwhelmingly unimportant. 

Six months later, they’re strapped into the launch capsule for the Kerberos ice fields mission.

“Do you think there’ll be eels in the ice?” Shiro asks. Countdown hasn't started and he’s got his headset muted, so only Keith gets the privilege of hearing him be an absolute dork. 

“Could be anything,” Keith says fondly. 

“I’ll name the species after you, obviously,” Shiro continues. “That would be cool. An eel, with your name on it, at the edge of the solar system.”

“I’d be honored,” Keith tells him. “Even though we’re going to be documenting ice gardens, and I don’t think we’ll find a lot of eels.” 

“Ah yes,” Shiro muses. “That’s better, actually: I haven’t given you any roses in a while.” There’s a  _ ping _ overhead; Mission Control is notifying them that countdown is set to begin and they need to turn their headsets to broadcast. It’s an event. “Well, sweetheart, here we go: once and  _ flor-all _ , we’re gonna have an adventure.”

That’s probably a pun, but Keith’s terrible at deciphering them. He just knows he’s about to start filming the next chapter of his life, with the love of his life; who cares if there are roses on Kerberos. Keith's plenty happy with his plain, plain wedding ring. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on twitter](https://twitter.com/boggremlin), you can talk to me :)


End file.
